Undesirable No 3
by EmeraldFire512
Summary: Percy nearly choked on his tea when he picked up the morning Prophet. On the front page was a large photo of his youngest brother with the headline shouting in bold black type "Undesirable No. 3." Percy's realization of the danger his family is in.


A/N: I know it's been a while, but this past semester has been hell. Seriously, I barely slept so as much as I wanted to write more, it just never happened. In other news, I have been working on this for quite some time. I have always loved Percy's character and think that he had always regretted what he did, it just took him a while to swallow his pride. This story is based off of what would have happened once Ron was confirmed to be travelling with Harry after Malfoy Manor. I think that may have been the wake-up call for Percy, because we know without a doubt he has always cared about Ron. Also, I kind of like the idea of Hermione and Ron being Undesirables 2 and 3. The golden trio as the undesirable trio is kind of a cool idea. That being said, enjoy the next installment of my missing moment series, and hopefully there will be more to come very soon! –EmeraldFire

**Setting:** After the events of _Malfoy Manor_

**Disclamer:** I really don't own Harry Potter, I sincerely hope you know that by now.

* * *

_"What made you see sense, Perce?" inquired George._

_"It's been coming on for a while," said Percy, mopping his eyes under his glasses with a corner of his traveling cloak. "But I had to find a way out and it's not so easy at the Ministry, they're imprisoning traitors all the time. I managed to make contact with Aberforth and he tipped me off ten minutes ago that Hogwarts was going to make a fight of it, so here I am."_

_- Deathly Hallows, Chapter30 - The Sacking of Severus Snape_

* * *

**Undesirable No. 3**

Percy nearly choked on his tea when he picked up the morning _Prophet_. On the front page was a large photo of his youngest brother with the headline shouting in bold black type "Undesirable No. 3." Percy hastily shifted the paper to read the caption, nearly tearing it in the process.

"Ronald Weasley, youngest son of Ministry employee Arthur Weasley, is now a confirmed accomplice of Undesirable No. 1. There were suspicions that Ronald may have been traveling along with Potter, but a visit to the Weasley residence by a Ministry employee seemed to confirm that Ronald had contracted a severe case of Spattergroit. It is now evident that this was in fact a ruse to distract the ministry from discovering the truth and thus keeping Ronald off the radar. A truant matching Ronald's description was apprehended by Snatchers in early December, but managed to overpower them. When presented with a photo of Undesirable No. 3, the Snatchers in question confirmed that it was indeed Weasley who managed to evade them. As several of the snatchers involved in the escape were injured, Undesirable No.3 has been given a label of highly dangerous. If spotted, contact your local Snatcher's chapter. No one but trained Ministry hit wizards should attempt to apprehend the Undesirable in question. Last night Undesirable No. 3, along with Undesirable Nos. 1 and 2, evaded capture yet again, though the Ministry looks favorably upon this misfortune, as the identities of all the Undesirables in question have now been confirmed."

Percy read the article through several more times, absorbing less and less each time. Ron was a wanted fugitive. He was on the run with Harry Potter. No matter how many times he read, he always kept coming back to one line; _Undesirable No.3 has been given a label of highly dangerous_. Highly dangerous. What had happened to his little brother?

Percy thought back to the last time he had seen Ron. It was at Dumbledore's funeral. Percy had been with the ministry entourage and had looked at his family through the crowd. Fred and George were there, wearing dragon skin suits. Apparently business was going well. Bill was there as well, his face completely bandaged. Percy had felt an involuntary shudder as he recalled what the official report of the night of Dumbledore's death said;

_Death eaters entered the castle via an unknown vanishing cabinet, and were met by several guards that Dumbledore had stationed around the school for extra protection in his absence. Auror Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, and William Weasley were all stationed at various points of the castle. Professors Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick were also on guard duty. Several students also were present and engaged the intruders in combat; 6__th__ year students Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Ronald Weasley, and 5__th__ year students Luna Lovegood and Ginerva Weasley. The students were on the whole mostly unharmed, some minor injuries were sustained. William Weasley was severely injured by Fenrir Greyback, but none of the others were harmed. _

The report then went on to give the summarized version of Dumbledore's death, which was of course vague. Percy had been nearly quaking with anger when he read that report. If Dumbledore had still been alive, he may have marched right into his office and demanded to know just exactly he could condone Percy's two youngest siblings to fight death eaters? They were only 17 and 15 for the love of Merlin! They had no business in a battle. But once he had reached the part that blatantly stated, _William Weasley was severely injured by Fenir Greyback_, he had felt as if a ton of bricks had been dropped on his chest. Bill had always been decent to Percy, and had been a good big brother. He had never done anything in his life to deserve that kind of injury. If Dumbledore hadn't already been killed that night, he might have done so at the hands of Percy Weasley.

At the funeral, seeing his brother's bandaged swathed face, Percy had felt his anger rekindle. Before he could do anything drastic however, he moved on. His mouth tightened slightly as he saw his parents sitting with Remus Lupin and the Auror Tonks. His mother was crying into a handkerchief and his father was rubbing her back gently while discussing something with Remus. In spite of himself, Percy wondered what it may be, as the pair of them were looking uncharacteristically serious, though that may have been more to do with the event.

Next he had sought out the two Weasleys he had been most curious about. He eventually found them near the shore of the lake. Ginny was sitting next to Harry Potter, with whom she seemed to be – Percy nearly let his mouth drop open in a most undignified manner – holding hands. His jaw clenched as he watched his sister lean into Harry, resting her head on his shoulder as he stared towards the lake. Ron had been sitting on Harry's other side, soothing a sobbing Hermione. Percy had allowed himself a slight grin at that, it appeared that his youngest brother was not as dense as he may seem at times. It would seem that he had finally realized that Gryffindor tower's resident brainiac did indeed like him as much as he liked her. But when his brother had looked up from his sobbing friend towards the crowd, Percy immediately lost his grin. Even from where he sat nearly 90 yards away, he could tell that his brother's clear blue eyes had an edge which had not been there a year prior. The war was taking a toll on his youngest brother and Percy hated it. His eyes reminded Percy of those of the Aurors he often ran into at work; the ones that had been out in the field hunting Death Eaters. It made Percy uncomfortable. Nobody in his office, the supposed heart and soul of their government had developed that characteristic.

And now here they were: Percy sitting at his kitchen table reading the paper with his morning cup of tea, and his youngest brother staring at him from the front page, his status as a wanted fugitive blaring above his photo. How had things gone so wrong?

He let the paper fall to the table's surface as he reached up his hands to rub his eyes. Percy knew that the war was wrong; there was no possible way he would have ever been death eater material. But the death eaters didn't mind a few ministry officials with a difference of opinion, as long as they were professional about it. That had always worked for Percy – it was after all the "smart" option. So he had gone with it. Continue to fill out his paperwork with his usual proficiency, and keep his head down and mouth shut. Guaranteed way to make it through this war alive. He tried not to read the reports that found their way to his desk. When he did, he detached himself as much as possible and viewed it all as business. The grisly details were not of his concern.

That had all come to a screeching halt with that photograph this morning. It had been like a slap in the face. Seeing his youngest brother, and if he were to be truly honest with himself; his favorite brother, listed as a highly dangerous wanted criminal with a battle-hardened look in his eyes, had stirred the empathy that was buried deep within his bureaucratic mind. All of the horrors that he had read in an official capacity came rushing back to him, all of the tales of tortured muggles, murdered children, and destroyed families came rushing back to him – the gruesome details no longer veiled by his professionalism. He felt as if he was going to be sick.

He launched himself from his chair and grabbed his cloak on the way out the door. He could call in sick to the office today, but they would all know. They would all have read the papers, and they would all look at him as they always did when one of his kin was implicated as a part of the resistance. No, he would have to go in and downplay it as he always did, as if it mattered little – he was only a Weasley by name after all. But today was different. Today, it was his youngest brother in the line of fire, and Percy would be damned if he could ignore that.

But they couldn't know that.

Without truly pausing to think, Percy strode into his entry hall and turned on the spot. He winced as he always did as his body was pulled through time and space, and gulped the cool springtime air upon landing. He then turned glanced at his surroundings with an expression of vague surprise. After a moment's hesitation though, he turned and strode with purpose up the winding lane past the empty shops and the once cheerful and bright pub that had since gone silent, straight up to slightly crooked dingy looking building. He reached out for the door, pulling the hood of his cloak over his noticeable hair as an afterthought, and pushed it open and calmly walked past the usual assortment of unsavory characters, taking a seat at the far end of the bar. Within a few moments the gnarled bar keeper ambled over.

"What'll it be?" he grunted.

"A pint of mead and some information on a certain firebird," he replied in a low voice.

Aberforth started, barely noticeable, and replied in a gruff carrying voice while fumbling under the bar, "so it's a private room you'll be wanting? Follow me boy; and it'll probably be for the best if you'd keep your intentions to yourself from now on. Not everyone's so understanding, ya hear?"

Percy rolled his eyes, but got off his stool and followed the barkeeper to the sitting room upstairs. Once the door was closed behind them and Aberforth had cast a silencing charm is a backwards wave of his wand, Percy lowered his hood. Aberforth's steely blue eyes studied him with cautious curiosity, his wand aimed at Percy's chest, before diving directly into the issue at hand;

"So why are you looking for information on this so called firebird in my pub of all places? Did your bosses put you up to this?"

Percy took his own wand out of his own cloak slowly, and carefully set it on the table next to them before speaking. If he were to get Aberforth to believe he was genuine, he would have to proceed carefully. Once his wand was down and his hands where Aberforth could see them, Percy replied, "I take it you've seen the paper this morning?"

He shrugged non-committedly, "I may have glanced at it."

"Then you'll have noticed the first page."

Again, a non-committal nod.

"Then you are fully aware of the reason I'm here."

"But am I really?" questioned Aberforth, eying Percy warily, "This war's been going on for quite some time now, and your family's been involved the whole time. Why should this be any different? Your eldest brother's injured, one of your other little brothers lost an ear. Your father nearly died once, and the particular brother in question several more times. Why the sudden interest – never seemed to bother you before."

"Lost – lost an…ear?" Percy sputtered, horrified.

"Not my story to tell," replied Aberforth gruffly.

Percy glared at him, horrified and frustrated for a few moments before speaking again, "Before, I was always thinking with self-preservation in mind. If I stayed in work and kept my head down, I was good. Guaranteed survival. I always knew my family was involved, but I didn't really know how much. Seeing that article today – it hit me like a ton of brinks. They described my little brother as highly dangerous, which made me realize how much this war really has affected everyone that I care about. I want to help, I want to ensure that this war is over as soon as possible, I want to help end it so that nobody else has to get hurt."

Percy looked over at Aberforth, expecting to see him gazing at him with respect, or maybe even awe. To his dismay, Aberforth began to laugh, loudly and cruelly. When he finally stopped long enough to speak, his words took Percy by surprise:

"Foolish boy," Aberforth gasped, "you really think _your_ help is going to make the difference? Better wizards than you have joined the cause, most of them _much _more skilled than you, yet this bloody war has still dragged on for nearly three years. You know what's happened? The other side is winning. You of all people should know that – you're surrounded by their success every day. Don't be naïve enough to think that one person can make a difference. Now, I suggest you go back to your office before your bosses notice that you are missing and move on."

With one last contemptuous look Aberforth scoffed and began to turn towards the door. In a few quick steps, Percy had overtaken him and blocked his exit. When the older man tried to get around Percy to grope at the door knob, Percy forcibly grabbed his arm and held him back.

"You listen here Aberforth," he nearly growled, "just because you're a cynic doesn't mean that the rest of us can afford to ignore logical reasoning. Of course one more person can make a difference – the more wands on your side the better. Especially if they are good – and I am damn good, you can be sure about that. So you are going to keep me informed, got it? If there is any occasion for which you could use more wands, I am on your list of people to call – and I'd better be on the top. Are we clear?"

Aberforth shook his arm our of Percy's grasp with a glare. "Crystal," he nearly spat.

Percy nodded, satisfied, "Good. Then I think we are done here." With that he stepped out of the way so the angry bartender could pass. As Aberforth pushed past him, Percy thought he may have seen a hint of a smile on the old man's gruff face. Before he could do more than guess if he was right however Aberforth strode through the doorway and down the hall. Percy gave himself another moment to collect himself before apparating to the Ministry entrance. As he stood in the queue for the loo entrance he couldn't help but smile to himself. He was doing something. For the first time in over two years, Percy felt his guilt lessen slightly. As he settled down to his desk a short while later and began to sift through the reports, the gruesome details still processed, but each one of them did not hit him like blunt knife to the gut. He was doing something to help, he was risking himself like this people. They were his comrades now, and he could help them. With that slightly cheerful thought he settled down to complete his paperwork in record time.

* * *

A few weeks later, the elation had begun to wear off. It had been nearly three weeks now since the day Percy had been to see Aberforth and he had heard nothing. There had been no clandestine messages or mysterious summons. It had just been business as usual. On this particular day, Percy had just entered his flat, having stayed late at work – again. He lumbered through the front door and into the kitchen, sinking into a chair and rubbing his eyes wearily.

"You, boy."

Percy nearly jumped out of his skin, jumping up with his wand drawn. The gruff face in his fireplace disregarded his wand with a scoff, "well that's not going to do you much good, is it?"

Percy sighed and lowered his wand before answering, "You do realize this is an awful risk don't you Aberforth? The ministry does take to watching fireplaces at times, and I might wager especially for their employees."

"I doubt that's gonna matter tonight."

Suddenly Percy felt alert, "What do you mean, what's going on?"

The barman disregarded his question and countered with his own, "You serious about wanting to help?"

Percy sat up straighter, "Of course."

"Well, now's your chance. There's going to be a battle going down at Hogwarts tonight, probably for all the marbles. We _could _use a few more wands I suppose, if you're up to it."

Percy stood up and straightened his robes. He felt wide awake now, all of his senses on alert. "What's the plan?"

"Get to the pub and I'll fill you in face to face." Aberforth watched as Percy grabbed his traveling cloak from the back of his chair and began to fasten it. "You sure about this kid," he asked as he watched, "nobody'd think less of you for not coming."

"That's where you're wrong Aberforth," Percy stated as he fumbled for some floo power, "this is my last chance to gain the forgiveness of my family. And I wouldn't miss it for the world. Now get out of the way so I don't have to trip over you when I arrive."


End file.
